


Short Fic Collection

by casey270



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Sauli Koskinen RPF, Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 12:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey270/pseuds/casey270
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cross posting old fic.  These are very short & were posted on Glam Kink, Team Lambliff & Cockbert between 6/2010 & 7/2011</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short Fic Collection

just a little tour comment fluff for janesgravity's birthday. she inspired me to write--something i never thought i'd do.

~*~

They were stuck in the wilderness. That’s the only way to explain it. Okay, so maybe they were at a casino, and casinos really didn’t bring the idea of roughing it to mind, but they were still in the middle of fucking nowhere.

“Have you seen what it’s like out there?” Tommy asks for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. “There are cows and shit just down the road. I even heard someone say _Ya, hey der._ I thought they only said things like that in the movies. I didn’t think people really talked like that in real life. I mean, fuck, man, how can that be real?”

Adam can’t talk Tommy down from his apparent culture shock right now. He’s having a crisis of his own, thank you very much. Thanks to VH1 having editorial control over the videos they post, the whole world knows about a certain piercing he’d had done just before tour started–was that only a week ago? Damn it was hard keeping days straight, let alone locations–and he still has two calls to return reassuring relatives that he was okay, and he really did know what he was doing.

When Tommy starts in with his second round of _Holly shit, I know I saw an Indian at one of the blackjack tables_ , Adam knows he can’t take it anymore.

 

There’s always been one sure way to stop Tommy’s almost constant chatter when they’re together. Adam reaches out, grabs Tommy’s wrist, and gives a good yank.

Tommy finds himself suddenly flush up against Adam’s chest without any clear idea as to how he got there. He opens his mouth to inquire, but Adam tells him to _Shut up and kiss me_ before he has the chance to ask anything.

_What the hell_ , Tommy thinks. The cows and the Indians will still be there when they’re finished, and he might just get the chance to ask Adam if he really should be calling them Indians, or if Native Americans is less offensive these days. After all he just wants everyone to be as happy as he is right now.

*********************

**This one was for the Cockbert prompt Tommy Ratliff* - Boredom, weed, scrabble**

The game had gone on far too long. Tommy had been a little leery about taking on Adam in a word skills game, but he’d found out that he could hold his own, especially when he was chemically relaxed.

The lines and rows of letters had grown and multiplied until all options were exhausted. When Adam tried to turn quick into squick, Tommy didn’t hesitate to call him on it. It would have turned the twenty-three point word (the ‘c’ just happened to fall on a double letter score box) into a sixty-nine point word, since the ‘s’ would fall on a triple word score box.

 

Even though Tommy thinks Adam’s pouting about wanting his sixty-nine is hilarious, he stands his ground. Or, rather, he sits and giggles his ground. After an almost lethal combination of Adam’s homemade martinis and the very, very fine ganja he’d had stashed in his emergency party kit, there was not gonna be any standing done by either of them for quite awhile.

Seeing Adam’s dejected look as he disconnects from the call to Danielle that confirmed Urban Dictionary was not an acceptable source for corroborating a word’s eligibility, Tommy decides to compromise.

 

It might be the existential-like state of cosmic interaction known as being high, or it might be that the alcohol has loosened his inhibitions enough to actually admit that, yeah, he’s really been wondering what it would be like to do those kinda things with Adam.

 

He takes his time crawling over to Adam’s side of the board, because he truly has descended far enough into intoxication so that any other form of locomotion just can’t be trusted to deliver him to his desired destination.

 

Laying a hand on either side of Adam’s sexy-hot-sweet-pouty face, Tommy manages the look of sincerity that only those far beyond the point of intoxication can manage. Gathering all sympathy possible, he looks deep into Adam’s drunkenly indignant eyes. “Don’t worry, baby. You concede the game, and I’ll give ya your sixty-nine.”

*********

**This one was for the Cockbert prompt Brad Bell* - Lazy, lap, contentment**

Brad had to admit that this brought back some of the best memories for him. Days spent doing noting, really. The slow passing of the sun as it moves across the sky not giving them the sense of an impending deadline.

Adam’s career has left them few opportunities to just kick back and enjoy a lazy day. But today is the exception. Today there are no shows, no interviews and no photo shoots. There’s just the two of them, like it used to be.

They may not have the same type of relationship that they had back then, back before all the crazy shit started happening in Adam’s life, but they still have this. They can be comfortable with each other. They can curl up together on a chaise on the patio and watch the sun go down together. They can just enjoy the silence together.

Brad curls further into Adam’s lap and knows that this is what they can share now, and it’s somehow enough for him.

************

**This one was from Team Lambliff & was inspired by this picture prompt**

They've been doing this for so long, so why the fuck does it hit like a ton of bricks tonight? Why do the words finally sink in now? And damn it, why does it happen on stage?

 

There's always been an attraction, a tension, between them. He's never denied it, and neither has Adam. No one's ever asked about it in the right way, though. The questions can always be answered directly without having to give anything away.

 

They **are** friends; he **is** straight. Those aren't lies. But there's always been something below the surface that neither of them has ever had to admit to publicly.

 

For some reason that he can't fucking figure out, tonight he finally gets it. The words and the kissing and the licking and all the shit that goes with it finally mesh together like some giant cosmic joke that he's the last one to get.

 

Yeah, they might both want it, but it aint gonna fucking happen. When Adam sings _We both know it isn't time, no_ he means it. Feelings, wantings, attractions, sexual tensions--all of them mean shit.

 

It just isn't time. Maybe it'll never be time; he doesn't know. But for now, he just looks at Adam and wishes to hell their timing was better.

********

**From Cockbert[almost public sex prompt](http://teamcockbert.livejournal.com/53411.html?thread=3081635#t3081635)**

Adam feels the hand on his thigh and smiles into his drink. He loves it when his boy takes the initiative to make the first move, and being in public just makes it that much better. He closes his eyes and smiles as the fingers that are hidden under the tablecloth dance their teasing way around his junk.

 

Sauli knows he’s freeballing tonight, because Sauli had been more than willing to help make sure he looked just right in the tighter than sin pants he’d had made for the occasion. There’s not a bit of wiggle room between his skin and his pants, and he’s becoming more aware of that the closer those fingers get to his dick.

He’s thoroughly enjoying the attention, but he thinks it might be time to stop it before it’s too late. He’s all for a little clandestine public playtime, but he really doesn’t think seeing pictures of himself playing Pinocchio pecker while presenting an award are what he wants to wake up to tomorrow. Perez would have a fucking field day with that.

 

He’s all set to say As much as I’m enjoying this, baby, maybe we should take it home to finish, but the words die before they make it past his lips. They die because when he opens his eyes, Adam sees Sauli’s hand, right there on the table, innocently fingering his napkin. But Sauli’s got two hands, right? There’s still no reason to think of this as anything but a fun game between him and his boyfriend. The reach might be awkward with his other hand, but his boy’s got many talents, and Adam appreciates them all.

 

But then Adam notices that Sauli’s holding his own drink in his other hand. Okay, two hands accounted for, and someone’s still under the table, because Adam just felt fingers brush across the skin of his belly before the button of his pants was expertly unbuttoned. And now he can hear the ghost of a metallic whisper as he feels his zipper slowly being lowered.

 

When he feels fingers touching his dick, he can’t help jumping a little. He bangs his knee against the underside of the table and lets out a little yell. Sauli asks if everything’s okay, but Adam’s a little distracted looking down the length of the table, checking for any empty seats. It’s no help though because everyone at their table is still accounted for, sitting there like nothing unusual is happening.

So, not one of the people from our table, Adam thinks. It makes him feel a little better knowing this, because he knows most of the people at the table, and Sauli is the only one here that he feels comfortable with getting close and personal with his packaged goods. But it really doesn’t help in narrowing down the possibilities. There are hundreds of guests at the event, and a support staff to match.

 

The tables are arranged in long rows with an aisle down the middle. The seating has been arranged so everyone has a view of the stage, so there’s no one sitting across from them, which is a good thing right now because Adam’s getting a little squirmy in his seat. He’s really trying to keep his little ass wiggle dance confined to movements below the waist so the table can hide them from view, but he’s sure his face must be sending out flashes that would rival the fucking bat signal.

Somewhere in the back of his brain, he hears a little voice telling him that maybe he should do something to stop this, but the voice really is little and easy to ignore, and, hot damn, whoever it is really seems to be enjoying what they’re doing. And maybe he should try taking a peek under the table to see just who it is down there, but that would necessitate lifting the long, long tablecloth to see who it is, and that would only serve to draw attention to himself. With his dick and balls flying free and unrestrained by any clothing right now, he really doesn’t want any more attention than he’s already getting. Besides, whoever’s doing this is obviously enjoying the anonymity of it, right? It would be selfish of him to deny someone else enjoyment wouldn’t it? Especially when nobody’s getting hurt.

 

Yeah, nobody’s getting hurt, he tells himself as those magic fingers work his dick and balls in ways he’s never imagined. His face might be saying something else though, because Sauli turns to him and asks, “Is there something wrong, baby? You don’t look like you’re feeling well.”

 

Adam’s always thought that his sex face is pretty damn sexy, but he supposes that taken out of context, it might be hard to interpret and appreciate it. Still, he’s a little hurt that Sauli thinks he looks more like he’s in pain than rapture. The hurt feelings don’t last long, because Sauli, being the caring, nurturing person he is, puts his hand on the silk shirt that’s covering Adam’s stomach and starts rubbing what he thinks would be soothing circles on it.

 

All Adam can think is fuck, fuck, fuck as the two sets of hands wander so close. Whoever it is beneath the table has a wicked sense of humor, because Adam can feel fingers dancing higher and higher, almost meeting Sauli’s hand when it’s at the low point of it’s pattern. Adam thinks this should be enough to make him call a halt to whatever fucked up fantasy is being played out here, but he has to admit that he likes it, and he likes it more than just a little bit. He likes it even better when he feels a warm, wet mouth take the place of the mysterious fingers. He really, really likes it when that mouth goes all the way down and swallows all around him. He likes it so much that he can’t keep the sound of him liking it contained, no matter how hard he tries.

 

When Sauli hears the groan that he can’t hold back, he assumes that Adam’s on the brink of throwing up or passing out, and he pulls Adam in closer, whispering in Adam’s ear, asking if he needs anything, if everything is alright. Adam can’t help it then. The feeling of his boyfriend’s hand rubbing his stomach, the feeling of Sauli’s breath tickling inside his ear combine with the feeling of the throat closing around his dick, and suddenly he’s coming like he’s never come before.

 

He tries to keep it as personal an experience as he can, but, damn, it’s hard. He thinks he might even have blacked out for a second there, because when he’s aware of his surroundings again, Sauli’s looking at him like he’s one second away from calling 911; he’s even got his phone out, damn it. And wouldn’t that be just the most juicy bone to throw to the paps?

 

Adam has to take a few deep breaths before he can try to form words to let his boyfriend know that he’s okay now, that whatever it was seems to have passed. He tells Sauli that he feels better than ever, as a matter of fact, and whatever that little spell was must have taken all the pent up tension he’d been carrying around with it, because he can’t wait to get Sauli home, alone, and maybe Sauli could please do that rubbing his stomach thing again when they get there, because, yeah, that felt kinda hot.

 

While he’s talking, Adam feel his dick being put gently back inside his pants and his zipper being carefully pulled up again. Then there’s an almost loving pat to his junk before he senses the movement of whoever this mysterious giver is leaving. He can’t help a quick glance along the empty side of the table, trying to see who might clandestinely emerge, but then he asks himself if he really wants to know. Wouldn’t it make it less special if he found out who it was, and didn’t like them? No, he can leave it like this, this time. Instead he pulls Sauli in tighter, gives him a quick kiss, and patiently waits for his turn to present an award.

*******

**From Cockbert[Adam/music prompt](http://teamcockbert.livejournal.com/53411.html?thread=3086499#t3086499)**

Adam wanders the club, not knowing what he’s looking for, what he wants. The music pounds through his head, echoing the driving beat of his heart. The flashing lights only serve to offer more shadow, more places to hide, rather than dispelling the darkness.

 

He feels another drink being pressed into his hand, and he’s not in the mood to refuse it. He downs it as quickly as he had its predecessor, and all the drinks before that. His head is swimming in a blissful sea of being, feeling and reacting to whatever stimulus he receives.

 

Adam feels himself being pulled to the dance floor, and he’s helpless to fight it. The music is calling to him, seducing him. His body longs to give in to the urge to worship the intricate layers of sound in the only way it knows. He sees the music flowing around him; he feels each note caress his skin. The music is his master, and he’s incapable of not submitting to its dominance.

 

He finds himself moving in the press of bodies already captured by the temptation of the music. Each of them paying homage with their own interpretation of grace and movement. He feels the wail of the guitar licking away the last of his inhibitions, while the driving beat of the drums commands the cadence of his feet.

 

He sees the glazed eyes of those around him, over stimulated, yet begging more from the music. They are all minions of the music’s will, puppets of the driving syncopation.

 

The crowd presses against him, moving in time to the music’s direction, and he welcomes the contact. They are playthings of something greater than themselves, and that is as it should be.

 

He feels bodies pressing and rubbing, feels hands searching for the magic the music promises. He feels the wet hot slide of a tongue on his neck, but he can’t focus past the siren song long enough to see who it belongs to.

 

Adam feels hands exploring the skin under his shirt, and he’s lost in the way the wandering fingers match their movement to the rhythm of the music. He senses them as a disjointed expression of the beat that’s taken him over in entirety.

His body pushes back against the hands, finding his own place in the never ending march of notes that the music holds. He longs to give himself completely to the master of this night, to the darkness and drive of the bassline.

 

He feels a hot breath ghosting across his ear as someone whispers the secrets of the music to him. He shivers as more hands join in mapping his body, pressing the heat of the music into him. He feels whispered touches, fleeting touches, demanding touches, and they all take their rightful place in the music.

 

The music demands absolute union; no layers can separate them, and Adam feels his emotions being peeled back along with his clothing. He’s naked and receptive, willing the music to fill him and envelope him. He feels the music in the hands that cover him; he feels the music in the whispered voices around him; he feels the music in the kisses and bites that happen in articulated response to the driving sound. He feels, and he feels, and he fucking feels in the music, and he lives in the music, and he loves in the music, and it’s too much. He gives himself completely to the music, and it steals his strength to resist. His legs can’t support him, but that’s okay. The music lifts him up while it pushes him down, and he feels hands holding him, pushing him back. He has a wall to lean against, and he thanks the music for it.

 

The hands he feels on his body belong to the music, and so do the lips and teeth and the white hot tongues of fire. The music explores every inch of him, and he opens himself to give it access. The music is intimate and expansive, and all the while the music drives him, bends him to its will. The music is within him, and without him. The music is lord of all creation, and he’s a willing sacrifice.

 

He can feel the tempo of the music building, bass beating a double quick heartbeat rhythm that quickens his own pulse. The flaming guitar licks are echoed by the hungry lips that suck at his pulse points. The heat of the music builds as he feels the music’s hands reach for him, holding him, stroking him.

 

His cock stands at attention as the music commands hands to stroke it, worship it. The heat of the music is matched by the flames consuming his body and reflected in the writhing bodies all around him. He is the center of the music, his entire being taken over by the melody of the song.

 

He feels hands running up his legs, hands that are empowered by the music. He feels lips suck the tender skin of his thigh in time to the call of the song. He feels lips surround his dick, and they suck, and they suck, and they suck.

 

Adam can feel his heartbeat speeding to match the pace set by the music. The lights catch and twirl, never illuminating but always, always dancing to the beat of the music. The crowd around him touches and tastes, knowing the music is alive within him. He knows the music has claimed him, and the others want to claim the music through him.

 

The mouth that’s laid claim to his dick sucks in time to the music, trying to capture the rhythm and beat. He can feel the pressure building in the pit of his stomach, ready to erupt with all the glory the music holds. His hips twitch in anticipation, but the music’s hands press him more firmly to the wall. He feels the gentle caress of the harmony in the hands that stroke his thighs, his belly, his sides, while the heat of the melody bites at his neck and ear, bringing tears of pain and pleasure to the corners of his eyes.

His hips jerk in discordance to the beat, but the music sucks harder at him, trying to pull him back into its prosody. And when he finds complete union with the music, when his heartbeat matches the beat of the song, he can’t keep it inside. He feels the buildup of heat and knows the glory of the music. His body spasms in time to the beat as the music brings him to the pinnacle of pleasure, and he feels the music spilling from him.

 

His muscles continue to clench in an ever slowing rhythm, and now the music changes to match his pace. It slows and envelopes him as he comes back to himself, using the hands and mouths of the crowd to gentle him back to where he needs to be. He feels the lips release his softening cock and place an almost reverent kiss on its head before breaking contact completely. He feels the hands still on his skin moving without demand, instead giving comfort to his trembling body. He feels the roughness of the wall behind him as he slides bonelessly to the floor, curling in to himself in order to keep whatever he has left of the music’s magic.

 

He knows that tonight the music was the hunter, and he was its prey.

*********

**From the Glam Kink prompt[Adam/Sauli](http://glam-kink.livejournal.com/1444.html?thread=1681572#t1681572)**

Breaking Down Walls

Adam laughs when Sauli tells him to look hot for the picture. Yeah, hot’s so not happening here. The day’s cold, and the stone behind him is even colder. He’s willing to give it a try, though. He’s pretty much willing to try anything Sauli asks, so he does his best to strike a pose that will make Sauli happy.

Sauli snaps the picture, and Adam can hear him tisking at the camera. “What? That was a sexy pose,” Adam says, trying not to shiver in the cold wind that blows into the corner and dances around him, while he wonders where he can find a warmer coat or a bigger scarf.

Sauli brings the camera over to him, and Adam’s glad to have someone to block the breeze for just a second. “This is not a sex face,” Sauli tells him, holding the camera up so Adam can see the picture he just took. “I’ve seen you sex face, and this is not it.”

“Sorry, baby. I think it’s the best I can do in this cold, though,” Adam answers, pulling Sauli closer so they can share body heat. Adam isn’t one to waste an opportunity, and having his boyfriend so close is too tempting to pass up. He just about to kiss Sauli when Sauli takes matters into his own hands...litterally.

Adam feels Sauli palm him through his jeans at the same time he gives Adam one of the deepest and dirtiest kisses Adam’s ever had, and Adam’s had his share of dirty kisses. When he feels Sauli pop the button on his jeans and hears the zipper sliding down, Adam moans into Sauli’s mouth and tries to form the words to let his boyfriend know that this might not be the best idea. As much as he wants this, someone might see them. He’s not quite at a place in his career where pictures of his dick on the internet would be a good thing.

But Sauli isn’t in a mood to be stopped. He’s more determined than Adam’s ever seen him. It’s not that Adam minds, really. He loves it when the toppy side of Sauli comes out to play. It’s not even the thought of being seen by some random stranger that’s bothering him. He’s not as well known here, after all. Seeing the hungry way Sauli’s looking at him, he decides that the benefits of the situation outweigh that risk.

No, what’s really bothering him is the fucking cold. His junk doesn’t like the cold. His junk usually tries to hide from the cold. He’s got some kind of reputation to uphold, and while he’s never been worried about size, he doesn’t want to see the reputation of his dick whither up and blow away on a cold breeze.

Adam moves a hand down to maybe try and stop Sauli, but Sauli uses his unoccupied hand to grab Adam’s wrist. “Don’t worry, love,” Sauli tells him between kisses and nips at Adam’s lips. “It’s much colder in Finland. I know many ways to keep warm.” Damn, the boy’s strong. Adam can’t help the sound of surprised want that comes out. He can feel the coiled power in Sauli’s grip, and it causes something deep inside to wake up.

Adam can feel Sauli’s hand reaching in below the fabric of his briefs, the elastic of the waistband stretching to allow the surprisingly warm fingers to find what they are seeking. With a downward flick of his wrist and an upward flick of his fingers, Sauli manages to expose Adam’s dick to the elements.

Adam takes a quick breath in anticipation of the cold air hitting places that should always be kept warm, but Sauli just moves in closer, his hips snugging right in to keep the cold wind out and the heat where it belongs.

Sauli has magic fingers, Adam thinks. Not only are they warm in the face of the elements, but they know tricks they have no right to know; tricks no one else’s fingers know. Somehow, Sauli’s fingers find a way to coax a fire to build inside him, and Adam feels the heat spread.

Sauli licks into his mouth as those magic fingers do what they do so well. Adam feels it when Sauli’s fingers rub over the slit of his dick, gathering up the drops that have started to leak. Sauli uses it to slick the way for his hand to slide down to the base of Adam’s cock, and Adam pulls in a quick breath at the sudden flare of heat he feels. His hips buck before he can stop himself, but Sauli doesn’t seem to mind.

Sauli’s busy letting his fingers find a rhythm and a pattern to take Adam’s mind off the cold around them. Each stoke of Sauli’s hand, each twist of his wrist, builds more heat in the space between them. The contrast of the cold, hard stone behind him and the warm, soft body in front of him is doing things to Adam’s mind and his body. He shivers, but it’s more from sensory overload than from the cold.

Adam shivers again when Sauli pulls the scarf he’s wearing loose and licks a hot strip down his throat, ending with a sharp bite on his collar bone. Sauli soothes the skin with his warm tongue, and Adam feels like he’s melting. He can’t hold it together as Sauli’s magic fingers continue to work him, and his shivers turn into tremors which turn into the pure bliss of relief.

Adam feels himself coming into Sauli’s hand, and before he can even gather himself back from the edge, Sauli steps away from him. Adam slowly slides down the cold stone wall until he’s sitting on the ground, one hand wrapped around his legs, the other reaching out for Sauli’s warmth, because, yeah, he’s not fucking ready to give that up yet.

Adam’s mind still hasn’t had a chance to start working and process what just happened when he hears the electronic click of Sauli’s camera. He looks up to see Sauli’s satisfied smirk as he looks at the image he just captured. “Yes, that is a much better sex face. I think we should keep this picture for just us, though.”

***********

**From the Glam Kink prompt[Adam/Tommy](http://glam-kink.livejournal.com/1444.html?thread=1600164#t1600164)**

And the Winner Is....

“Shhh!,” Tommy whispers. “If your mom hears, I’m totally stopping.” He knows he’s not going to stop though. He thinks his hand has a mind of its own as it works over Adam’s junk, loving the contrast between the short, coarse hairs and the velvety skin.

Adam can’t help the giggle that escapes as he replies, “I think it’s my dad you should be worried about.” Adam doesn’t know weather to let his head drop back against the couch in blissful abandon, or dive under the blanket that’s wrapped around the two of them and suck Tommy off.

“Naw, dude, I can handle a pissed off dad, but your mom would just look at me like she’s disappointed in me or some shit, and that would make me feel like a total ass.” Tommy’s fingers find just the right rhythm, and when he pushes ever so slightly into Adam’s slit, the moan Adams gives him makes him smirk in triumph.

“My mom loves you. Sometimes I think she loves you more than she loves me,” Adam says with the most adorable pout Tommy’s ever seen. And the twist Adam gives Tommy’s dick makes him buck his hips in pleasure.

“You stick that bottom lip out any more, and I'm gonna have to start sucking on it,” Tommy says. “What would your mom say if she saw that?” Tommy can’t resist sucking on it just a little, no matter what the consequences might be.

“She’d probably just say it was a good way to share even more germs,” Adam answers, pulling Tommy’s hand to just the right place.

“Yeah, but then she’d know how we both got sick at the same time,” Tommy answers as he wiggles just the right way to get the best friction. He knows he’s close, so Adam can’t be too far behind. Glancing at Adam’s face, Tommy decides Adam might even be winning this race.

When they both came down with the virus from hell, Adam’s mom decided that it would be easier to make sure they both recovered properly by keeping them together. That way she could make sure they were both getting proper care, and behaving themselves. Once the initial nasties of this particular germ had worked through their systems, both of them had been at loose ends with the boredom of recovery.

For the last two days they’d been ensconced on the couch in Adam’s family room, wrapped in a shared blanket with mind numbing daytime TV in front of them. It came down to a choice of finding ways to occupy themselves, or having Neil come back to tell them to quit whining about not being able to do anything.

So they’d devised The Game. The rules were simple: the one who holds out the longest wins, and if they get caught they’re subjected to Neil’s eye rolls for eternity.

Tommy’s determined to win this round, so he redoubles his efforts by bringing his other hand in to play with Adam’s balls. He enjoys his lead when he feels Adam’s dick jump in his hand and hears the protest of Not fair! come from Adam’s mouth.

But then Adam decides to lay everything on the line in the name of victory when he bends down and catches Tommy’s nipple in his mouth. “Holly shit!” Tommy can’t help being a little loud, but fuck, who would have thought that having a warm, wet mouth tonguing his tit through his worn sleep shirt could be so hot?

When he feels Adam’s teeth joining in he can’t hold back any longer. He lets go all over Adam’s hand and his belly. Adam smiles in victory and relief as he comes right after, making a mess of the blanket covering them.

When they both come down enough to recognize their surroundings, Tommy says, “God, I need to clean up, and I can totally feel a wet spot on the blanket,” as he nuzzles into Adam’s side.

Adam looks down at Tommy and rubs his back as he shouts to his mom, “Mom, can you have Neil bring us another blanket? I think our fevers broke, and this one is all yucky.


End file.
